


Samson

by Moonsault



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Clothed Sex, Episode Tag, Frottage, Hatesex, Kayfabe Compliant, M/M, Sex in a Casket, exchange treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 08:35:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15626886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonsault/pseuds/Moonsault
Summary: The Miz is extremely annoyed at Daniel Bryan:  for growing his hair out, for wrestling again, for pretty much ignoring Miz.  Miz is going to get his attention even if it takes a fake-funeral to do it.





	Samson

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Achika](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Achika/gifts).



The longer Daniel’s hair got, the angrier the Miz got.

Oh, it had started off slow and gradual. Most people had hardly even noticed that the Smackdown General Manager’s hair was getting longer. But Miz had noticed right away. Of course, he was on Raw at the time, and it wasn’t like a famous movie star had time to watch every single stupid decision being made over on the B brand, but now and then he’d see gifs of Daniel, or video snippets, and yeah, it was _definitely_ creeping down toward his collar.

Which made Miz mad.

Daniel had no business having long hair. Long hair was for framing his face as he lifted titles, long hair was for triumph, not for flannel shirts and reality television. Long hair was for the past, the stupid past when Daniel Bryan had made stupid choices and hid his injuries from the brass and now was never going to wrestle again. How many times had Miz lectured his protege about the risks he took, his unsafe wrestling style? And Daniel had smiled at him and gone off and done exactly as he pleased; he’d let his hair grow long and he’d slain all the lions in his way, and it had all happened exactly as Miz had predicted. The Miz had triumphed, really: he was still wrestling while Daniel was--irony of ironies--nothing but a reality tv star, really.

Miz was the real winner, and Daniel had no _right_ to grow his hair out as though he weren’t broken and shattered.

* * *

He heard Daniel was cleared to wrestle from Twitter, like pretty much everyone else. Apparently dropping his former mentor a little heads-up wasn’t in the Daniel Bryan moveset. Miz stared at the tweet and felt cold all over, numb with shock. It was horror he was feeling, he supposed, because there was no doubt that someday Daniel Bryan was going to come gunning for him, was going to try and make him pay for all the awful, cruel, andabsolutely true things Miz had said about him. Without a doubt, probably sooner rather than later, they were going to meet in the ring again.

“Good news?” Miz looked up to see Bo Dallas, faithful and true, smiling at him. Bo indicated Miz’s phone with his eyes. “You looked super-happy. Good news?”

“I-- What? I looked happy?” Miz closed Twitter hastily. “Oh, nothing much, just a fan telling me how amazing I am. The usual.”

“ _Holy shit,_ ” Curtis Axel gasped from across the table, almost dropping his own phone. “Daniel Bryan is cleared to wrestle!”

Miz let his jaw drop. “ _What?_ ”

* * *

He’d watched Smackdown that night, of course. He’d watched Daniel come to the ring with that old light in his face, his hair loose. He’d watched Zayn and Owens attack him and felt a sick helpless fury as Daniel crumpled beneath their assault: _it should be me. It should be me smashing his stupid fragile head against the apron, teaching him that he doesn’t belong in the ring._

Everything had moved really quickly after that, and he’d ended up on Smackdown, because of course he had, because Fate laughed at him. He’d ended up on the same show as Daniel Bryan, but now _he_ was the A-Lister and Daniel was nothing but a shell of his former self, doing nostalgia reunions as Team Hell No and basically _ignoring_ the Miz except to make snarky comments here and there. It was infuriating. Daniel was supposed to be hunting him down, full of implacable fury for all the wrongs Miz had done, not palling around with some has-been demon. What did Miz have to do to get his attention?

* * *

Stage a funeral, apparently.

* * *

“What the _hell_ was that stunt all about?”

Miz pulled his eyes away from the inside of the casket, lined with gold cloth, at the sound of Daniel’s voice. “I’m sorry?” he said as mildly as possible.

Daniel’s eyes were blazing as he got right in Miz’s face. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, Miz,” he snarled.

“ _I’ve_ got a lot of nerve?” Miz laughed, but something about the acoustics of the concrete walls gave it a weirdly brittle edge. “ _You’re_ the one who’s got no business getting back in the ring.”

Daniel moved so fast Miz barely had time to flinch, pushing him up against the casket on its stand so hard that the lid wobbled. Miz could shove him aside, but it was undignified to scuffle backstage, it was beneath a star such as himself, so he stayed put instead, there with Daniel’s furious face inches from his.

“It’s where I belong,” Daniel said. “You’re the one who should be sticking to your _reality programs._ ”

“Your wrestling career is _dead,_ ” hissed Miz.

“Your wrestling career was _never alive,_ ” Daniel shot back, gripping the edge of the empty casket with both hands, his arms almost around the Miz. His stupid hair was framing his stupid incandescent eyes, and suddenly--there didn’t seem to be any transition at all--Miz had his hands full of that hair, grabbing it and pulling it, pulling Daniel up against him into a kiss.

He waited for Daniel to pull back and kick him into unconsciousness, but instead Daniel snarled something incoherent into his mouth and grabbed his shoulders, deepening the kiss until Miz thought he might just pass out anyway. Daniel’s hair was disgustingly silky and his beard was scratchy in very intriguing ways, and Miz was just starting to feel like he was getting the hang of this when Daniel suddenly shoved him backwards hard.

Miz tumbled backwards into the casket, feeling a pang of absurd betrayal for just a moment before he realized that Daniel had clambered in on top of him. The lid came down and everything went utterly dark.

Outside the casket, R-Truth and Tye Dillinger’s voices were coming closer, talking about Samoa Joe and strategies to beat him.

Miz could feel a slippery satin pillow beneath his head. He was trapped in a casket, and that would probably be terrifying, except that Daniel was stuck there with him, and Daniel was currently biting and sucking at his neck and grinding up against him as well he could in that narrow space. That managed to distract Miz extremely well from his macabre prison. His hands were still tangled in Daniel’s hair; he pulled Daniel’s head closer to his mouth and whispered in his ear, “You’re a loser, Daniel Bryan.”

Daniel made a guttural sound and ground harder up against him, and it felt _really fucking good,_ but even better when Daniel started whispering “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you,” over and over again, his voice just a thready whisper of sound, growing more and more ragged. 

Outside, Tye and Truth had to be just a few feet away from the casket; Miz had a wild hope that if they saw it shaking they’d at least decide it was haunted and flee rather than open it, because he didn’t want to stop, and he wasn’t sure he _could_ at this point. He pulled Daniel’s hair so hard he heard a breath hiss between Daniel’s teeth: pain and pleasure, anger and ecstacy mixing intolerably. He tightened his fingers and and breathed curses and abuse into Daniel’s ear, and Daniel buried his head in Miz’s neck as though Miz had called him _sweetheart_ until Mix felt Daniel’s climax shuddering through him, the desperate tremors tight and controlled, and that very mix of abandon and control sent him over the edge too.

They lay there together in the dark surrounded by mahogany and gold silk, panting softly. Miz’s hands were tangled in Daniel’s hair; he slowly unclenched them, feeling the strands shifting and slipping through his fingers like water. He’d never been able to hold on to Daniel, not really. Tye and Truth’s voices moved off, still arguing about how to deal with the Coquina Clutch, and Miz felt Daniel’s breath on his neck and said nothing and felt a lot of things.

“I’m glad you’re not dead,” he said after a moment.

“Thanks,” muttered Daniel.

“I’m glad your career’s not dead too,” Miz said.

“I’m still going to kick your chest in at SummerSlam,” said Daniel.

Miz ran his fingers through Daniel’s long, silky hair. Daniel Bryan had his strength back. Maybe he could knock the pillar of the WWE down. Maybe.

“You’re welcome to try,” Miz said.


End file.
